


Eden

by Snailsway



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Angst?, Cheesy, M/M, OOC, References to Child Abuse, Romance, Underage Kissing, everyone is a little messed up, except ray, fluff?, sacrilegious, very asian drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snailsway/pseuds/Snailsway
Summary: By the time Eddy was 25, he thought he had closed that chapter of his life that involved Brett. Turned out he was wrong. Brett showed up on his doorsteps one chilly day in August with a suitcase and a smile.(WARNING: This is loosely based on their child abuse video and Brett is underage for parts of it. But the bulk of it is when they're both legal, so...)
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 83
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

By the time Eddy was 25, he thought he had closed that chapter of his life that involved Brett. Turned out he was wrong. Brett showed up on his doorsteps one chilly day in August with a suitcase and a smile.

"Hi Eddy. Auntie--your mom, said it'd be okay if I stayed here. She said she emailed."

The email had been routed to spam, but it was there all right. Eddy gave her a call while Brett showered, and she asked, "What's the big deal? You guys used to sleep in the same bed. Anyway, it's his first year and you're a professor, so you can help him out. He just needs a place to stay for awhile. He's got the scholarship but it won't pay for everything.

"Besides, you can watch over him. He needs that, you know that."

Eddy sighed softly after he hung up.

"Is everything okay?" Brett asked. He had just stepped out of the bathroom and was still enshrouded in steam. Eighteen already, but with a childish, cherubic face pink from the heat of the shower.

And that ragged old shirt, wasn't it one of Eddy's that he'd left at home years ago?

"Sorry, I didn't know you were coming and haven't prepared anything. How about you take the bed tonight and we'll get you settled in tomorrow? We can move the piano out and you can have that room."

Brett responded with a quiet, _sure_. His eyes were downcast, unreadable. He padded over to Eddy, his bare feet leaving damp imprints on the wood. The closer he drew, the more Eddy tensed. He fought the urge to take a step back, to push Brett away as the younger boy wrapped his thin arms around his waist and buried his rounded face against Eddy's chest. 

"Do you hate me?"

"No," Eddy said helplessly. How could he?

"Then why did you leave? And all these years, I thought you might change your mind, come back for me." He spoke softly, brokenly. "But even now, you just want to push me away, don't you?"

A wet patch had begun to form on Eddy's shirt. He could feel Brett's hot tears leaving their mark, burning his skin. Brett's embrace closed in on him like a net. He closed his eyes. Why had he thought he could escape? Some force beyond his will drove him to wrap his own arms around Brett's trembling body.

"No. No. You can stay. Of course you can stay."

Maybe this was his second chance. Maybe he could undo the past and save them both yet.

Brett lifted his face. It glistened with tears, but he was smiling. He rose to his tip toes and kissed Eddy lightly on the lips.

"I love you Eddy."

Or maybe they would go to hell together.


	2. Chapter 2

If memory served, Brett didn't like Eddy much at first. Eddy, after all, had taken away his dad, who had been his whole world.

That wasn't how Eddy thought about it. Not that he was thinking about much at all. He'd simply done what he had to do, then felt sick to his stomach. He remembered that it had been an unseasonably warm day, and Brett had worn an oversized shirt with long sleeves that kept battling with his bow.

"I just rolled it up because I thought it'd be easier for him to--but Mum, there were really bad bruises, and he said it was from a fall, but I can't imagine--"

It didn't take all that much to figure out that the perpetrator was Brett's dad.

Eddy was sixteen that year. Brett was the docile kid who'd just moved into the neighborhood, and whose dead mother used to be good friends with Mrs. Chen.

"Why don't you have Eddy teach him?" Mrs. Chen suggested, when Brett's dad said they were looking for a new violin teacher.

The worst part about it was that Eddy had liked Mr. Yang. He seemed like a nice guy, always ready to pay Eddy a buck or two extra for the lessons. Eddy almost wished he hadn't been the one to discover the secret and sound the alarm.

Brett certainly didn't thank him for it.

"He's such a good kid," said Eddy's mum, after they agreed to take him in. (There was no one else.) And he was! He pitched in with the chores, ate anything you gave him, smiled and said please and thank you and never complained at all.

But when it was just the two of them lying in adjacent beds in the dark silence of Eddy's room, Eddy could feel the wordless resentment that bubbled beneath the surface.

He's just a kid, Eddy told himself. He probably doesn't even know what's going on. So Eddy was extra nice to Brett, told him his best viola jokes, slipped him chocolates bought with his own allowance. And Brett always smiled and thanked him. But when they were lying there in Eddy's room, Eddy knew Brett still hated him.

And in the end, he couldn't take it.

"Brett, if you . . . if you want to talk, or if there's anything I can do," he stuttered nervously. (Really, Eddy? He's only a child, get it together.)

There was a long silence. He could hear from Brett's uneven breaths that the boy was still awake. Then Brett said, with a dull coldness beyond his age, "You've done enough, don't you think?"

"He was hurting you."

"He was all I had."

Eddy's heart broke a little.

He was sixteen, a stupid and immature and selfish teenage boy who wanted nothing more than to avoid trouble, but even so, his heart broke a little for Brett. He crawled from his bed to Brett's and engulfed Brett's abnormally small body in a warm hug. He felt Brett stiffen, but refused to let go.

"You have my parents now, and Belle," he said. ". . . And me. Even though you don't like me, I'm here for you too, if you need me."

Brett turned his head away. "You're just saying that," he retorted sullenly. "You don't even know what that means. You have a family, but I don't . You're here now because you feel sorry for me, but you won't be here forever."

"Forever. I'll be here forever. We all will. We _are_ your family now! We love you as much as--more than--"

"We? Do _you_ love me?" Brett pressed, with a hint of derision, or disbelief.

"I love you," said Eddy. And as he said that, he realized with some surprise that it was true. He did love this wounded but resilient little boy who'd somehow fallen into his life. "And I'll be here for you. Promise."

Brett didn't say anything for a while. But Eddy could feel his resistance dissipating, bit by bit, could feel him pressing a little closer and surrendering to Eddy's hug. A little sniffle slipped out. Eddy smiled; Brett was only nine, after all. Eddy stroked his back as he began to cry.

"It'll be okay," he whispered.

"You won't leave me?" Brett asked in a tiny voice, between choked sobs.

"No. And I'll never hurt you."


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Brett kissed Eddy, it was just after he won his first violin competition. By then, Brett had moved onto a proper teacher, who had successfully unearthed an impressive, raw talent in the boy. The whole family still attended all his recitals and competitions though, so Eddy was there cheering for him when they announced the winners.

"That's awesome! So proud of you!" Eddy exclaimed.

Brett smiled shyly and motioned for Eddy to bend down. Eddy looked at him questioningly but did as beckoned. Brett kissed him soundly on the cheek, and darted away with a blush.

Eddy's mum caught the kiss on camera. "Adorable," she cooed. Brett hid his face against Eddy's stomach.

Eddy smiled and ruffled Brett's hair. "And was that your way of saying thank you?"

Brett responded with a muffled, "Yeah."

On the drive home, Brett crawled from the middle seat onto Eddy's lap and, after a few tired yawns, fell asleep on Eddy's chest.

"He's really attached to you know, isn't he?" Belle noted with an amused giggle. 

As if he heard her, Brett snuggled closer, breathing soft puffs of air against Eddy's neck. Eddy adjusted him slightly so it wouldn't tickle as much, but took care not to wake him.

"Is it ... weird?" he asked hesitantly. "I'm never sure ..."

"No, it's great. It's great that he finally trusts you. It's great that he trusts anyone at all," said Mrs. Chen. She turned in her seat and snapped another picture of them. "We're like a real family now."

Eddy peered down at Brett's soft, chubby cheeks and smiled again. He pressed a light kiss on top of the boy's head.

Brett surprised Eddy later that night by asking, "Does it make you happy when I win?"

Eddy took a minute to digest this question, then shook his head. "I'm just happy that you still like the violin, and that you're so good at it. That's all."

They were laying in the dark again, but things had changed. For a while, Brett had battled with nightmares that left him cold and shaken. Eddy always had to wake him up, and he would spend the rest of the night huddled restlessly in Eddy's bed. At some point, Eddy had the bright idea to just push their twin beds together, so that he could watch over Brett without the extra distance between them. Brett's nightmares seemed to cease after that, more or less, as if he could subconsciously feel Eddy's presence and this helped keep them at bay.

Brett didn't love the arrangement--he was already ten, he could surely sleep by himself!--so he always made sure to roll to the very edge of the bed and face away from Eddy in order to maintain his dignity. Of course, he almost always rolled back into Eddy's arms after he fell asleep, which annoyed him, but that was out of his control.

Besides, now that the weather had cooled, nestling in Eddy's arms wasn't all that bad.

"That's good." Brett said, releasing a small breath of relief. "I'm not sure I can win all the time, but I'm sure I'll always like the violin."

"Why's that?"

"Because you taught me, dummy."

***

Over the winter, Brett experienced a small growth spurt and outgrew most of his old sweaters, which his dad had purchased for him a few years prior anyway. He never said anything though, and no one quite noticed that his clothes no longer fit him until Mrs. Chen studied him carefully one day and exclaimed, "Brett, your sleeves barely reach your wrist! We need to go shopping."

Brett, embarrassed, tried to tug his sleeves down further, as if this might undo the damage. "It's okay, they still fit. I don't need anything yet."

"Nonsense, you're a growing boy, and we're certainly not going to let you wander around in clothes that don't fit you..."

As Mrs. Chen continued her lecture, Eddy grinned at Brett in encouragement and whispered, "Don't worry about it." He could tell Brett didn't want to burden the family with his expenses, and that tugged at his heartstrings too. A ten year old shouldn't have to think about these things, shouldn't be scared to communicate his wants and needs.

"Actually," Brett interrupted quietly. "If it's okay, I can just wear Eddy's old clothes."

Eddy and his mum both looked at him in surprise.

"Oh, Brett," said Mrs. Chen with a sympathetic laugh, "you certainly don't need to wear Eddy's hand-me-downs, you silly boy. We'll just go buy you some new--"

"I'd prefer it, actually," Brett maintained, with an innate stubbornness that occasionally peeked through his general complacency. He turned to Eddy with a small pout, the kind that you couldn't say no to. "Please?"

"Well ... I mean ... if you really want..." Eddy was no match for the pout, and after, he was glad he'd said yes, because he'd never seen Brett look so happy.

Eddy's old clothes, even from a while back, were still too big for Brett, but he didn't seem to mind. Seemed to like it, in fact, to sink into the oversized sweaters and flannels that draped comfortingly over his small body.

"It makes me feel safer," he explained sleepily one night, when Eddy asked.

Eddy chuckled and gently hugged the boy closer. As he stared at Brett's sleeping face and listened to Brett's light breaths, he felt his whole heart swell, in a way he had never felt before.

Maybe even then, things had begun to change, in small ways that Eddy hadn't quite grasped, changes that were imperceptible ... and dangerous.


	4. Chapter 4

It's hard to say when exactly Eddy began to realize that things were wrong, but the start of it was probably that one day Eddy went to pick Brett up, a few days after he'd started at the local middle school.

Brett was waiting for him at the front entrance with a bunch of other kids, and from a distance, they all seemed to be getting along. But as Eddy drew near, he heard one of the boys say to Brett, "Well, at least my dad isn't in jail."

A wave of fury crashed over Eddy--which was rare, because Eddy was generally a calm, shy person--and before he knew it, the boy was bawling his eyes out and Brett was dragging him away before the teachers came.

*

They walked in a silence for some time, which allowed Eddy to cool down and feel embarrassed about the whole thing. He apologized and said, "I'm a bad example. Don't do what I did. But I just want to say that what he said wasn't okay, and you let me know if he says it again. Anyway, it doesn't matter. You have us now. You know that, right?"

Brett, who had been sneaking wary glances at him, flashed a subtle smile. "He was just joking, actually. Oliver's really nice. But yeah, I know."

Then he slipped his small hand into Eddy's larger one, as if he were trying to reassure Eddy that everything was fine, and not the other way around. The funny thing was, holding Brett's small, warm hand, did make Eddy feel better. It grounded him, somehow, and he held it the whole way home.

If Eddy had been slightly more observant, he might have noticed Brett peeking at their linked hands periodically with a bashful smile, and he might have stopped Brett from doing what he did next.

*

Eddy was reading a book when Brett consciously crawled over to his side of the bed and tucked himself against Eddy's side. This was so unusual that Eddy looked down at him with an amused smile and asked, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Brett. But just before Eddy could turn back to his book, Brett suddenly shot up and kissed Eddy quickly on the lips. Just as quickly, he bounced away again and hid his face under the covers. "Good night," he said, his voice muffled by the blankets.

Eddy froze in place. "Good night," he replied mechanically. He stared blankly at his book until long after Brett had fallen asleep.

*

"You can't kiss me like that," Eddy said tersely, the next morning.

"Why not?" The displeased pout was already beginning to form on Brett's face. "Mrs. R said that kissing someone is how we tell them we love them." Brett glimpsed at Eddy shyly.

Eddy let out a small sigh of exasperation. Mrs. R needed to be more careful about what she said to prepubescent children. "There are different kinds of love, Brett. And to kiss someone on the lips means--"

"--Eddy, what are you going on about," Mrs. Chen cut in with a roll of her eyes. "Brett's a kid. He doesn't mean anything by it. And look, you're upsetting him."

Indeed, Brett's eyes were swimming in water and looked as if they might rain crocodile tears at a moment's notice. Eddy swallowed nervously, but continued. "Well, Mum, we can't just let him--"

"I get it. I just wanted a bedtime kiss, but I won't do it anymore if you don't like it," Brett said, his sentence breaking in the middle from a small sniffle. "I'm sorry."

"No! No, I didn't mean you did anything wrong. I just . . . Mum, don't look at me like that. Okay, well, I mean, obviously, a bedtime kiss is fine."

Brett's tears evaporated on cue and he graced Eddy with a sunny smile. "Kay."

Eddy had a sinking feeling about all this. But what could he do? Besides, maybe his mum was right, maybe he was the one being perverse, making too much of it all. Brett was just a kid, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

So it became a ritual, then--a peck on the lips before Brett wrapped his arms around Eddy like an octopus and fell asleep. Repeated night after night, it began to feel almost normal, nothing more than an innocent, sweet gesture by his kid brother.

Only, Brett wasn't his brother, of course. And he wouldn't be a kid for much longer either. All through those hazy, summer days, when the sticky heat wafted suggestively in the air, Brett was transforming. His face lost a bit of its roundness and revealed delicate features that were almost pretty. The short mushroom cut they'd given him in the spring grew out and perfectly framed his soft cheeks; his lashes fluttered behind his glasses when he blinked. He was at that ephemeral stage between boy and man, and at gatherings, aunties and uncles would sometimes mistake him for a girl.

"Any boy will be lucky to have you, when you grow up," one of the older people once remarked. Everyone gurgled with laughter as Mrs. Chen explained for the umpteenth time that Brett was a boy. Brett, though, peered at Eddy from beneath his long fringe and held Eddy's hand just a bit tighter.

Eddy pretended not to notice, but of course he did.

At night, Brett's lengthening limbs always got tangled up with Eddy's. Eddy could never quite escape the long, bare legs just barely covered by Brett's small pajama shorts. And every morning, Eddy would wake up with Brett resting peacefully in his arms, angelically defenseless, his slender fingers draped lightly over Eddy's chest, as if he never wanted to let go.

Something itched in Eddy's heart--a vague and unidentifiable feeling, cloyingly sweet, a sliver of sin just wedged at the brink of his subconscious. It was so very wrong. Every night, Eddy wanted to push Brett away and retreat back to safety. But every morning, with the helpless honesty of someone only half-aware, he would inevitably pull Brett closer.

*

Then one day, the fragile equilibrium broke.

Eddy awakened to the rare feeling of empty arms. Brett had rolled far away and was bundled up at the edge of the bed. Eddy gave him a bleary-eyed look and said, "Good morning."

"Good morning," Brett replied stiffly.

Eddy studied him for a few moments with growing confusion. "Aren't you hot under there?"

"No," Brett said quickly."You can get ready first. I....I'm just going to lay here for a few more minutes."

By then, Eddy had recovered some of his brain functions, and with renewed alertness, noticed that Brett's cheeks were unnaturally flushed and that his fingers gripping the covers were trembling. Concerned, Eddy placed his hand against Brett's forehead. "What's wrong. Are you feeling okay?"

Brett turned even redder. "I'm fine," he whispered plaintively, swatting Eddy's hand away. "Just...just leave me here for a few."

"But why--what's the matter--oh. Wait." It suddenly dawned on Eddy what had happened, and he couldn't quite suppress a small chuckle. "Don't tell me you just had your first...?

"Yes," Brett hissed in despair. "Now go away."

"Ah, I see. _So,_ our little Brett's growing up, eh? And which lucky girl graced your dream? Was it--"

Brett sank under the sheets. "Just go away, _please_."

"Fine, fine. I'll let you sort yourself out. We better get the sheets washed though, if you don't want Mum to get nosy. I mean, she'll probably find out anyway, but . . . "

"Eddy, can you just leave already?"

"Ok, fine. But I wouldn't be too embarrassed. It's natural. Happens to every guy. I, for example--"

" _Eddy._ "

*

Eddy was helpfully pulling the sheets off the bed when he heard Brett call for him feebly from the bathroom.

"Forgot to bring my shorts in. They're on the chair. Can you just . . ."

Brett had probably meant to say, can you just hand them to me through the door, but it was too late: Eddy had already burst in, a knowing, gleeful smile on his face. He had been thinking about ways to tease Brett this entire time, as older boys do, but upon seeing Brett, he suddenly froze.

Brett had just slipped on one of Eddy's old shirts, a faded white button-up that was only half buttoned, revealing the jut of his collar bones, still damp with water. And the shirt flowed down to just the hem of his boxers, beneath which dangled that pair of slender, long legs, pale and smooth, like a girl's.

Brett stared at Eddy wordlessly, his soft cheeks the pink of a ripe peach, his eyes slightly glazed without his glasses. It was uncomfortably warm in the tiny bathroom, where the two of them stood barely a foot apart. The smile faded from Eddy's face. He thrust the shorts at Brett and quickly averted his eyes.

"Sorry, I'll let you get dressed."

But as he turned to leave, Brett grasped the corner of his shirt and stopped him with a weak tug. "Eddy, I . . . " He hesitated, peering up at Eddy through his dark lashes, then whispered, "I need to tell you something. My dream, it wasn't . . . about a girl. Is that . . . wrong?"

Eddy's voice caught in his throat. "I don't--why don't you get dressed first, and then we'll--"

But Brett couldn't wait to get the words out. They'd been gnawing at his young heart for months now, and if he could just tell Eddy, "It was actually . . . it was actually about--"

Maybe Eddy just wanted to stop him from saying the forbidden word. But more likely, it was the look in Brett's eye, the flush of his cheek, the curve of the exposed shoulder. That shy innocence that bordered on coy. Eddy was a hotheaded eighteen year old who hadn't yet learned to suppress his desires, and Brett pulled him in like a moth to the flame.

He cupped Brett's face gently and kissed him.

It wasn't a peck this time, but an actual kiss, transgressively prolonged, their lips meeting over and over again, Eddy's crushing against Brett's, as if he couldn't get enough, ever. Brett met him halfway, with an inexperienced enthusiasm that Eddy found impossibly provocative. In between Brett's small kittenish moans, it didn't take much for Eddy to coax his lips open, delighting in Brett's dizzied gasps for breath as his tongue traced the contours of Brett's mouth. Eddy had kissed other people before--his various girlfriends through the years--but not like this. Never had Eddy been quite so intoxicated, his mind blissful empty, his body acting out of pure, carnal desire for the boy in his arms, an insatiable longing to savor the taste of Brett.

"Eddy," Brett whispered breathlessly, his eyes glassy and his legs weak.

"Yes?" Eddy asked, even as he pressed another kiss on Brett's swollen lips.

"I love you."

"And I--"

"--Eddy, Brett! What are you guys still doing up there? It's already 8:30!"

His mum's booming voice washed over Eddy like a bucket of cold water. He was still holding Brett. Brett was still staring at him helplessly.

_Fuck._

"Mum, hold on. We're almost ready! Just give us a minute."

And that was really all he could manage to say.

Had he really just kissed Brett?

He wanted to vomit. He hated himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to transferring this from Wattpad (the 3 mil fic no one wanted lolol)  
> Anyway, I'm working on Cityscape now but am also kind of obsessed with writing this one because, at heart, I love cheesy asian drama fics the most >.>;
> 
> Ok that's all, see you next year + best wishes for 2021! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Correction to last chapter -- as a reader helpfully pointed out, Eddy was closer to 18/19 when they kissed, and Brett 11/12! I didn't mean to suggest that Brett hit puberty at 9 lololol 
> 
> (Whatever it's still messed up lmao)

It took a few days, but Eddy convinced his parents that Brett was old enough for his own room and that, besides, Eddy needed his own space to finish a few projects before college.

"It just seems like such a hassle," his mother complained. "You're moving out in a few weeks anyway. Why not wait until then?"

"I'd like to have my own room," Brett piped up. He smiled angelically at them, and seemed not to notice that Eddy had looked away in discomfort. "If that's okay."

It was the first time Brett had affirmatively asked for anything, so of course Mrs. Chen said yes.

*

Brett was always more perceptive than other children his age. He likely sensed right away that something was wrong, maybe even from the moment the kiss ended, when Eddy had turned away in shame. Or perhaps he began to feel uneasy from Eddy's silence on their way to school and his subsequent failure to show up for Brett after school.

But with the honest eagerness of a child, he ran up to Eddy anyway when Eddy finally trudged home that night and asked shyly if he'd eaten. "Auntie bought some cake for me, but I thought we could eat it together."

"That's all right, you go ahead," said Eddy. He took a half step back, preempting the hug that he knew Brett was seeking. "I'm pretty pooped from school, so ..."

Looks of surprise and hurt flashed in quick succession across Brett's face, then disappeared. He bounded back with a smile. "Okay."

By the time Brett came back to their room, Eddy had already pushed their beds apart again. Brett's brows bunched together briefly, but he sat down quietly on his own bed without protest. It was only after a few moments of tense silence that he finally asked a tiny voice, "Did I do something wrong? I'm really sorry."

"No! You didn't do anything wrong," Eddy said quickly. Of course Brett had done nothing wrong. He wished he could pull Brett over and hold him, tell him that nothing was his fault. At the same time, he also wanted to never have to face Brett again, to run away immediately and forever. But that would have been impossible, unfair, irresponsible. Brett had gone through so much already, and here he was, creating more trauma. He was such a fucking scumbag.

"Listen," he croaked. "I--I don't know what came over me this morning. What _I_ did was wrong, and horrible, and _I'm_ sorry. You did nothing. None of this was your fault. I shouldn't have made you ... Obviously, I won't do it again, but I'll make sure Mum gives you a separate room, so you don't have to feel unsafe. And I--I won't ask you to keep it a secret, but--"

"Eddy," Brett interrupted. "It's ok. Breathe."

Eddy's face contorted in a bitter smile. To be told by a child to breathe...

"Brett, it's not ok though," he said. "It's not ... "

"Then I'll forget about it," Brett said softly. He had already wrapped himself under the covers and turned away towards the wall, curled in a fetal position. "I've already forgotten. Good night."

*

After that, it was as if an invisible barrier had been erected between the two of them, and Brett, who had always clung to Eddy, never again tried to cross it. He didn't cry or whine, didn't demand further explanation from Eddy. He seemed to simply accept that things had changed and that there was nothing he could do about it.

As the weeks passed, he reverted to being the good kid he always had been, erasing those little pieces of personality that were only just beginning to show.

*

"Where's Brett?" Belle asked.

The dinner table felt strangely incomplete--quiet--with just the four of them there.

"He's hanging out with friends again," Mrs. Chen responded with a pleased smile.

"The kid seems to be gone a lot these days. And it's weird that you're so happy about it. You used to watch me and Eddy like a hawk."

"I know, I know, but it's taken him so long to make friends. I mean, I was glad when he started to trust Eddy, but he needs friends his own age too, and now it looks like he's finally found them.

Isn't that right, Eddy?"

Eddy nodded mutely, with a forced smile.

Belle laughed. "Well, you don't have to look so happy, Eddy. You jealous? I've noticed he doesn't follow you around as much anymore."

"I'm not," Eddy retorted. "I'm happy for him too. Anyway, I'll be leaving soon enough ..."

"That's true. Royal College of Music, huh," Belle mused. "Who knew I had a genius for a little brother? You ready for London, though?"

Eddy was ready for London. He was ready for anywhere, as long as it wasn't here.

*

Still, he ended up walking by the middle school the next evening, just to check. He wasn't sure why he suspected this--perhaps he'd developed a sixth sense when it came to Brett--but sure enough, there was Brett, sitting on a swing all by himself, watching the sun set. Concern and anger coursed through Eddy's blood and by the time he jogged over, he couldn't stop himself from rashly raising his voice. "What are you doing here? You told us you were with your friends."

Brett looked startled, but recovered himself quickly.

"I was, but they went home."

"Well you can't just sit here! Do you know how dangerous it can be once it gets dark? And here I thought--" Eddy stopped suddenly, noticing a trace of fear in Brett's eyes. "Shit, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to yell." He sank weakly into the adjacent swing.

Brett bit his lower lip until it was red and torn. "No, it's me," he finally whispered, without looking at Eddy. "I'm the one who always messes things up. That's why Dad got mad sometimes. It wasn't really his fault. It's not your fault either. It's just me. I'm sorry for lying."

"No--"

"I was trying keep out of your way until you left for college. I've already caused you enough trouble. I'm really sorry. But there's just a few more days, right?" Brett said this with an unconvincing smile that kept drooping at the corners.

Eddy released a ragged breath. He got up from the swing and stooped in front of Brett, forcing the younger boy to look at him. "Brett, no. Listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong. It was all me. You're so young--too young-- and I...I still...So it was me that messed up. Really messed up bad. Okay?"

Brett stared at Eddy, perplexed. "I'm too young?" he repeated woodenly.

"Yes, and I'm older, so I should've known better--"

"--And it bothers you that I'm too young?"

That was true, of course, but that wasn't the point. Eddy was sure Brett had only half understood him, had picked his words apart in a way he hadn't intended. But Eddy could also hear a note of hopefulness in Brett's voice, could see that Brett was blinking back his tears, and if thinking this way made him feel better, then ...

Eddy nodded slowly.

"And you don't hate me?"

"No! No. It's me who should be asking that to you..." Eddy said with a wry smile.

Slowly, hesitantly, Brett leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Eddy, burying his face in the crook of Eddy's neck. Eddy stilled himself, fighting the impulse to pull back and run away again. There were only a few days left. He'd give Brett these few days, and then he could leave, and Brett could heal again.

"I could never hate you, Eddy."

*

When Eddy finally left for London, Brett hugged him briefly at the airport and waved goodbye with a brave smile on his face.

"Don't be too sad, Brett," said Mrs. Chen. "He'll be back for the holidays, I'm sure."

Brett nodded.

On the car ride home, he stared bleakly out the window, as the familiar streets of Brisbane flashed by. It was the same streets that he and Eddy had traversed together for three happy years. They felt different now--dead and desolate--now that Eddy had left.

But it didn't matter, Brett told himself. It didn't matter that Eddy had left.

And later, it didn't matter that Eddy never wrote, or that he always found excuses to stay abroad. 

Brett had waited all those years to escape his father. He could wait a few more for Eddy.

He would grow up someday, and when he did, he could find Eddy again. 


	7. Chapter 7

Their reunion played out like a stale memory.

It had been seven years, but Brett's body was still warm and small, still fit snugly in Eddy's arms like it belonged there.

"We can't do this," Eddy said gently as he disentangled himself from Brett. "You can stay here, of course, but ... not like that."

Brett took a step back and glanced down demurely, his wet lashes obscuring his eyes. "Okay. Sorry."

*

Eddy awakened the next morning before it had fully dawned and padded softly to the living room. In the incipient daylight seeping through the blinds, he could just make out Brett's small huddled form on the couch. His blanket had evidently slipped to the floor in the night. 

Eddy frowned and quickly threw the covers of Brett's thin, shivering frame again, tucking in the corners carefully. He then stood for a few seconds at the edge of the couch, lost in thought.

What would he do with Brett, now that he'd reappeared? How to face him, in light of their past?

Unable to form any answers, he finally shook his head and walked away to the kitchen to make his morning coffee.

Brett shifted quietly and cracked open one eye. His gaze trailed after Eddy, and a wan smile flitted across his tired face.

He pulled the blankets closer. Still the same Eddy Chen. So kind and warm that you couldn't help believing that he must care about you, if only a little bit.

And a little bit's enough, Brett thought to himself. Don't get greedy.

*

Breakfast consisted of buttered toast, which was about as much cooking as Eddy was capable of. They sat quietly at the small dining table, each studying the other with shifty, covert glances--unobtrusive efforts to bridge the years.

Brett was somehow still the same, Eddy thought. That is, he was noticeably older now, but the transformation had left him relatively unscathed. His face after puberty remained porcelain smooth, and the only change, really, was that he'd grown taller and shed some of his baby fat, which helped reveal a set of prominent cheekbones. But with his rounded glasses and his long bangs that held a hint of a curl, there remained an ethereal softness to him that was almost intangible but undeniably present.

Eddy forced himself to look away.

"I thought we'd spend the day picking up some things for you. The bed will have to get delivered, but at least some furniture and anything else you might need. What do you think?" Eddy suggested.

"That'd be nice, actually," Brett replied with a grateful smile as he nibbled on his toast. He added, in the careful way that he always did, "But only if you're free."

Brett had evidently recovered himself over the night, had reigned in his emotions so that he appeared nonchalantly upbeat, like when he first showed up on Eddy's doorsteps. As they picked their way through Sydney's homeware stores, he maintained a cheerful smile and a stream of harmless small talk.

_How was London? I hear the curry is good. And the apartments are small. But school was fun? Tell me about the classes. You must have made a lot of friends?_

Eddy answered all the questions patiently, but with his heart suspended in his chest. He was waiting for Brett to ask, _why didn't you ever come back to visit,_ and trying to formulate a good response.

But Brett didn't ask. That entire day, Brett made no mention of the topic, never once acknowledging the elephant in the room. And for that, Eddy was grateful.

Brett's smile only began to flag in the late afternoon. Eddy could tell he was still trying, but sensed that he was growing exhausted. He placed his hand lightly on Brett's shoulder to stop him from roaming towards the next aisle and proposed that they go grab dinner.

Brett stared at him guiltily. "Oh, you don't have to--I can just eat whatever, at home. I could even cook for us. I don't want to be any trouble, really."

It was that carefulness in his tone that hurt Eddy the most, a subtle reminder that Brett had once trusted him enough to discard that care and just be himself. And Eddy had destroyed that trust with his own hands...

You shouldn't need to feel guilty, he thought, I'm the guilty one.

Perhaps this was his chance to atone. He owed Brett that much, at least.

*

The restaurant he chose was an upscale steakhouse. Compared to the steak though, Brett seemed more mesmerized by the view of the Opera House. He stared out the window with such a candid look of wonder that Eddy dropped his defenses for the first time that day and smiled.

"Maybe you'll perform there one day."

"I'm not sure," Brett replied humbly. But there was a look of longing in his eyes, and Eddy knew he wanted to.

"I'm sure you will. Mum told me you've won a bunch of competitions. In fact, I thought you'd go overseas for sure. Surprised you ended up at our school."

Brett chuckled and shrugged. He pushed his steak around listlessly. "She probably exaggerated. You know how she is. I'm lucky I got in here."

"Well, this is the best school in Australia, so that's still impressive. And I'm glad to see that you still like the violin."

Brett turned to him with an enigmatic smile. "Why? I told you, didn't I, that I would always like the violin?"

_Because you taught me, dummy_.

Suddenly, Eddy found himself at a loss for words.

*

The silence on the drive back was broken by a call from Sophie. Eddy put her through on speaker. Her low voice, with its dry European inflections, worked like tonic, soothing his nerves and restoring a sense of normalcy. And she came with good news too; that she'd gotten the job offer from the university and would be joining him in Australia later in the year.

Brett listened quietly to their conversation while he stared out the window.

"That was Sophie," Eddy explained after the call ended. "We went to school together in London. She's a great violinist, _and_ pianist. I think you'll like her."

Brett hummed nonchalantly. With a sidelong glance at Eddy, he asked, "She's your girlfriend, isn't she? It's okay, you don't have to hide it. Auntie already told me."

Eddy frowned. She wasn't, but now that Brett mentioned it, he vaguely recalled that he may have told his Mum something to that effect. It must have been that time she visited a few months before he graduated, when she wouldn't stop badgering him about his nonexistent dating life. Annoyed, he had pointed out Sophie and said, her, she's the one. And Sophie, bless her soul, had played along.

Before he could explain though, Brett was already speaking again. "Eddy, can you promise me something?"

"What's that?"

"That you'll forget everything I did as a child. You know how it was. I was ... messed up, right? I didn't know what was going on. I'm over all that. I'm better now, so just forget it, okay? I didn't come here to...I mean, I just came here to be a better violinist, that's all."

Brett was still staring out the window. A lump formed in Eddy's throat. He was thinking, if you're over all that, then why did you kiss me last night. 

"And you're right. I'm sure I'll love Sophie. Plus, I'll make sure to find a place before she arrives."

Eddy opened his mouth a few times, the truth about Sophie at the tip of his tongue. There was no girlfriend. A few flings here and there with the girls he met at school, and a few secret trysts with random guys he met at bars. Nothing long term though, nothing meaningful. Nothing that could erase the memories and the feelings locked at the bottom of his heart.

But in the end, he merely cracked a smile and said, "Don't worry about moving out, no rush on that. School comes first. As to what you did as a child, I don't remember you doing anything messed up. Anyway, it was all so long ago."

And they left it at that. 

Brett lingered in the driveway by himself for a second. Eddy had already carried an armload of stuff in, and the door shut slowly behind him.

Don't be greedy, Brett thought again, as he stared up at the stars. In this vast universe, he'd managed to find his way back to Eddy's side, and Eddy hadn't turned him away, and that was sufficient.


	8. Chapter 8

The first day of school swooped in sooner than expected, for which Eddy was grateful, even though it was true that, since the rest of his furniture arrived, Brett stuck to his room for the most part so they were able to keep awkward encounters to a minimum. Further, Brett had skillfully persisted with his performance of a cheerful nonchalance that could almost fool Eddy into thinking their relationship was "normal," like long-separated siblings or something. And since Eddy desperately wanted to be fooled, the two of them were able build a fragile fiction of normality based on a collective pact of amnesia. Nonetheless, Eddy was ready to get out of the house and put some distance between them, so even though the start of the semester meant teaching and grading and waking up at an unreasonable hour, he looked forward to it.

"Do you think you'll be ready in the next ten minutes? It's probably a little early for your first class, but I need to head to campus to get some materials together."

Brett, who had been sipping genially on his glass of milk, placed it down now and gave Eddy a perplexed look. "I was thinking I would just take the bus."

"The bus, why? We're literally going to the same place."

"It's probably not a good look for you to take a student to school right?"

Eddy chuckled. Brett always had a way of overthinking things. "I'm sure no one cares. Besides, you're basically my little brother."

"I'm not, though," Brett retorted quickly. "That is, we're not really related, and people might ask, and I'd rather not talk about it. I already looked up the bus routes, and it's pretty straightforward. Anyway, I don't want to bother you if I can help it..."

"Hmm. I understand your concern, but it's just that the intercity buses aren't all the safe, and you're—"

"I'm eighteen," Brett interrupted, exasperated. "Not a kid anymore, Eddy."

The declaration surprised Eddy, but he realized with a jolt that it was true, that Brett was no longer the small, helpless child Eddy had walked to and from school. He was eighteen already, his own person. A strange concept that Eddy couldn't quite process.

"Fine, as you like. But text me then, when you get there."

*

Eddy received Brett's arrival text just as Ray bounded into his office, wearing his usual shit-eating grin and bubbling over with pride. There's a new student, he explained, the best this year, a scrappy kid from Brisbane who's swept all the Australian competitions and who had been accepted to a ton of prestigious institutions, but who ultimately chose to come here.

"All to work with _me_ ," Ray gloated.

Eddy raised his brow.

"It's true. And he's totally adorable, too, tiny and looks like a little teddy bear."

Brett's image flashed through Eddy's mind, but, although his mother had described Brett as some sort of prodigy, Brett had said he hadn't gained acceptance elsewhere, so it couldn't be him.

"Maybe don't describe your students as 'adorable.'"

"Please, Eddy, get your mind out of the gutter. Anyway, you play the violin too, don't you? We're having a workshop this afternoon for the freshman to show off their talents. Why don't you come listen?"

"First day back and workshop already? Harsh."

"Classical music isn't a child's playground."

"I'll think about it."

The rest of Eddy's day was busy with classes and meetings, but he did continue to think about whether he should drop by the workshop. He knew Brett probably wouldn't want him there, but there was a part of him wondered what Brett sounded like now.

If he were being honest, he had actually thought about Brett's playing a lot those years he'd spent in England. The innocent confidence in Brett's tone, the showy way he glided his bow, his blissful, sweet smile just before he took his bows—all memories that compulsively surfaced in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to forget. So in a covert, perverse way, behind all of Eddy's compositions, in all those silences between the notes, there was Brett.

Ray swung by at the end of the day and asked, "You coming?"

Eddy placed his pen down and sighed. Did he have any other choice?

Just outside the auditorium, they ran into Hilary, who was chatting with some of her senior female students about their recital repertoire. One of the girls asked with a giggle if Professor Chen might attend, which got Ray all excited, until she clarified, "Professor Edward, that is."

Eddy, who was usually shy about these things, laughingly agreed, more amused by Ray's crestfallen expression than anything else.

"Don't get what's so great about this guy," Ray grumbled as they found their seats towards the back. "He's so quiet. Nerdy. All that theory. Not even approachable.

"Probably why they like him," Hilary observed with a shrug. "Young, talented, and just a tad bit reserved. Can't beat that."

"But what about me, I'm also—"

"—Aggressively friendly. A bit cheesy, you know?"

"Ok, now that's just slander—"

" _Shh_ ," Eddy warned, rolling his eyes at his chatty colleagues. "They're about to start."

Throughout the long workshop, Eddy waited anxiously for Brett's appearance, but Brett didn't walk on stage until last.

"That's him," Ray whispered, " The one I was telling you about."

Eddy watched Brett with confusion. But hadn't he said...?

Brett didn't seem to notice him, sitting there in the back. Eddy could sense he was a bit nervous from his deadpan expression. But that changed, as it always did, when he propped the violin on his shoulder. Then, even the timidity and hesitance he had exhibited around Eddy these past few days disappeared, and he became someone else entirely.

And there was it was, that beautiful playing that had haunted Eddy all these years. The little smirk on his lips as he blazed through the fiery sonata, the confidence in his eyes as he peered at the audience, the little flourishes in the way he lifted his bow...Eddy felt as if he were watching memories spring back to life.

Yet, even as he thought this, he realized that some things had changed too, that reality had evolved beyond the memories. Brett had that lost the roughness around the edges, the occasional struggle with the strings. His runs now were crisp and clean. Then, too, he had lost a bit of his innocence, and there was something beguilingly probing in the way he played, as if through his music, he were searching for something just out of reach.

As Eddy listened, as his eyes followed the solitary figure on stage that he'd missed for so many years, his heartbeat quickened, skipping erratically here and there.

That morning, he hadn't quite processed it, but now he knew. Brett's playing had matured from youthful promise into something more, something greater. He had grown up after all.

*

Afterwards, the auditorium took on a more relaxed atmosphere. With performances out of the way, the students began to mingle and a number of them quickly gathered around Brett. Eddy watched curiously from afar. Off-stage, Brett lost his deadpan look and instead laughed and chattered easily. Even though he was so talented, there was something imminently approachable about him, and Eddy observed with some wonder that he already looked like he belonged.

But how different this Brett was from the one who faced Eddy at home. How comfortable he looked...Eddy felt a slight twinge of sadness. Was this the real Brett? And if so, at what point would Brett be able to shed his defenses around Eddy again? Or was it too late...

Their eyes met suddenly over the crowds, and Brett's widened with surprise. Recalling their conversation from that morning, Eddy merely smiled and waved in acknowledgement, then turned to leave.

"Wait, but don't you want to meet him? Brett, that is."

"Next time," Eddy said.

Ray frowned. "Weird guy."

"Not sure if you're one to talk," Hilary remarked lightly.

"..."  
  


*  
  


"Wait, Ed—Professor Chen!"

Eddy paused. He had already made it some distance from the auditorium to a quiet, tree-lined pathway when Brett caught up with him. They stood there for a moment as Brett gulped for breath. Eddy smiled and handed him a tissue.

"You didn't tell me you were coming today," Brett said finally. His pale cheeks were still flushed from exertion and sun. There was enticing liveliness about the look that Eddy tried not to think about.

"Sorry, Ray invited me so thought I'd stop by. Was I not welcome?"

"No...it's just that I...well, I would've prepared something more special if I'd known...and practiced more, so that you could see the best side of me," Brett explained, voice trailing off. "Today's performance was just random...They sprung it on us out of the blue. You probably didn't like it."

"I liked it."

"It's okay if you didn't..."

"No, I really did," Eddy replied earnestly. "I was surprised, in fact, by how much you've improved. Yet somehow, you retained traces of—anyway, I liked it very much."

Brett studied him for a moment, and he must have been satisfied that Eddy was sincere, because he broke into a shy, pleased smile. "That's good..."

"By the way, you..."

"Yes?"

Eddy shook his head. "Nothing. I was just thinking that since you caught me, we may as well head home together. Unless you're too nervous about being seen with me."

Brett's immediate nervousness drew a small laugh from Eddy. "Just kidding. Let's go."

As the car stalled in the afternoon traffic, Eddy thought about asking Brett why he'd lied the other night. He could and should be in Philly or New York or Paris now, making a name for himself as Eddy once did, and not buried here in Australia. Eddy toyed with telling him that it wasn't too late, he could still transfer, Eddy would help him.

But the words stayed on the tip of his tongue. Of course Eddy knew why Brett chose Sydney. And of course Eddy knew he should convince Brett to leave. What was the point of hiding all those years in London, if not to distance himself from Brett, to ensure that Brett could resume a normal life without him?

He peeked at Brett from the corner of his eye. Brett appeared to be listening intently to a recording of Tchaikovsky. His full lips curved into a pretty smile at the joyful ascension of the chords.

And Eddy knew then that he would say nothing. He had tried his best, but Brett had found him again and had slotted himself back in Eddy's life. Such was human nature—illogical, selfish, depraved. Of course, he would watch over Brett like an older brother, that's all. It's just that, right now, he simply couldn't let go of him again just yet. 

*~*~*~BONUS SCENE~*~*~*

Ray: Great to meet you Brett, I'm so excited to work with you.😁

Brett: Same here. 🙂

Ray: And of course, I'd heard that you specifically requested me as your instructor. Great choice! 😆

Brett: Yep! I was thinking about requesting Professor Hahn initially, because she's so amazing and I'm a huge fan of hers, but I thought I'd be too nervous around her to actually play, so I went with you instead. 🙂

Ray: ...... But you're a fan of mine, too, right? 😅

Brett: ...... Sure. 🙂


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Note that I rewrote ch. 8 a bit. Ray was messing up the vibe LOL, so had to reign that back a little. 

***

As the semester wore on, Brett began coming home later and later. There was always practice, or a freshman event, or just hanging out with friends. Today, too, he rejected Eddy's offer to order katsu from the new place that had just opened.

"Practicing for a quartet recital," he explained as he nibbled on his toast.

Eddy felt a dash of disappointment, but he merely nodded and told Brett not to stay out too late.

"But you should try eating something healthier. All that takeout...You're almost 30."

Eddy blanched. "I'm 25, thank you."

Brett glanced at him skeptically, but sprang away before Eddy could say anything else.  
  
  


Of course, Eddy didn't believe him entirely—there couldn't be events every night, and you didn't come home from quartet practice at 11, smelling like alcohol. But, Brett's age jab aside, Eddy had been in college not so long ago, and he could still remember those first months in London, the delightful first taste of freedom before it went stale, blurred memories of partying in clubs and waking up with random girls in his bed, the awkward conversations that followed, the dissatisfied emptiness that consumed him after they left. 

In comparison, Brett was almost tame. At least he came home at night. At least he didn't bring anyone else.

Eddy didn't tell Brett, but he never slept until after he was sure that Brett had tiptoed safely back into his own room.

*

With nothing to do after work and no Brett to feed, Eddy reluctantly agreed to accompany Ray to the new bar that had opened near campus.

"It's Shaun's bar. You remember him. He graduated not too long ago."

"I thought he wanted to be a music producer."

"He is one. But he also runs this bar. It's really hip."

"Hip...huh."

Upon entering, Eddy once again found himself baffled by Ray's tastes, or his perpetual desire to fit in with the younger crowd. The whole place was filled top to bottom with students, and the two of them stood out like sore thumbs. Embarrassed, Eddy dragged Ray to a quiet corner and tried his best to blend into the wall. 

"You don't have to be so weird about it," Ray joked with a roll of his eyes. "You're 25 and I'm 31. We're still young. Gotta enjoy our youth. Maybe we should socialize? Those girls over there—"

"—Are definitely students, Ray. So no. I'll just have a beer, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

But thankfully, Ray heeded Eddy's advice and settled down in their booth. No one seemed to notice the two professors hidden in the corner, and the evening passed pleasantly enough as their conversation transitioned to familiar terrain: faculty gossip, work complaints, and then finally, music.

"It's only in these times that I remember you're a world class soloist," Eddy mused after Ray made a particularly brilliant comment.

Ray, who was taking out his wallet to pay, glared at him and said, "Another word from you and you're buying."

Eddy grinned and made the motion of zipping his lips.

As Ray dealt with the receipts and whatnot, Eddy listened in absently on the conversation at the next booth, where there sat a group of giggling girls that had grown increasingly drunk over the course of the evening.

"So you're new here?" said one of them, whose face Eddy couldn't see. Her voice slurred unpleasantly. "To the school, I mean. I thought so, I'd remember if I'd seen you."

Eddy wrinkled his brows in distaste. You'd think kids these days had better pickup lines, he thought to himself, though he supposed it sounded marginally less sleazy coming from a girl.

"Well, if you're free after your shift, we're heading to a party at those apartments, apartment 529, around the corner, and you're welcome to come..."

Eddy heard a polite chuckle, then: "I just started my shift, so probably not. Maybe some other time. Can I get you guys anything else?"

Eddy's eyes widened. He could recognize that voice anywhere, and a quick look around the corner confirmed his suspicions. There was Brett standing at the next table, taking orders. Having changed from his normal clothes to an all black waiter's ensemble, Brett blended right in to his environs, and Eddy might not even have noticed him, had he not heard his voice.

"Brett?" Eddy ventured, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

Brett looked no less shocked than Eddy. He froze in place, his pen still hovering over his pad. "Eddy," he began to say, "Um...I...I can explain, but I'm in the middle of my shift. Maybe after, can we...?"

Eddy stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Is this a joke, Brett Yang? You can't mean to tell me you're actually working here?"

"Well..."

"What happened to _quartet practice_?"

"I...later, I can explain later, but I need to--"

"No. Absolutely not. You're coming home with me right now."

"No, Eddy, I can't--Eddy--"

Here, other people began to jump in--Ray, and the girls at the table, all of whom had been watching speechlessly--spewing forth a jumble of words. But Eddy couldn't be bothered with them. He was too bewildered, and angry, and blinded by those emotions, he grabbed Brett roughly around the wrist and tugged him out the door.  
  
  


Outside, the air was cool and quiet. There were only a few pedestrians, and no one wanted to get involved, even as Brett stumbled behind Eddy on their short walk to the parking lot. ( _Eddy, listen to me—I'm sorry—I would've told you, but—._ )

It wasn't until they reached the car that Eddy finally stopped and turned to face Brett.

The smaller boy stared up at him, red-cheeked and nervous, the black speck in his eye flickering as he anxiously searched Eddy's face for some hint of softening, or forgiveness.

"I'm really sorry, I can explain..."

But Eddy wasn't in the mood to listen to him.

Besides, his attention had momentarily been caught by the opening of Brett's silky, black-collared shirt, where Brett had left the top two buttons undone, revealing a sliver of collarbone, pale under the moonlight, and dotted by a mole.

Eddy frowned and opened the door to the passenger seat.

"Get in," he said hoarsely.

*

It took about five stoplights before Eddy's temper cooled. Brett hadn't tried to say anything else, and now that he was able to think a bit more calmly, Eddy wondered what he was angry about. Was it Brett, or himself?

"So you've been working there all those times you told me you were practicing, or hanging out with friends? You've just been lying to my face?"

Brett kept silent.

"Look it's not that you can't have a job. But it's your first semester and you're only eighteen. You should be focusing on your studies instead of spending your nights working at a bar. I don't know what you're thinking, but it's not safe, and it's a waste of your time. My mum didn't raise you all these years so that you can waste your talent working at a bar."

"I'm sorry," Brett repeatedly quietly.

"Are you really? Then why did you do it? And why did you lie to me—"

Eddy stopped abruptly, as he noticed just then that Brett was crying.

Eddy had never seen anyone cry like that before, cries so restrained that they were reduced to silence--a silent shaking of the shoulders; silent teardrops quivering at the edge of Brett's lashes before they splashed down his cheeks. The silence somehow made it more unbearable, a suffocating sort of pain. A wave of guilt crashed over Eddy. He pulled over to the side of the road and rummaged around for tissues, cursing softly as he struggled to find them.

As he did that, Brett covered his face with his trembling arms, creating a shield, as if he didn't want Eddy to see his tears.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking every few words. "I just...because I need to move out before Sophie comes, and you shouldn't have to spend money on me, and I don't have ... There's the money I won, but that's not enough. I knew you'd stop me, but the bar pays more than...I didn't want cause you any trouble, but I guess I..." 

Eddy exhaled harshly. All of his anger and frustration drained out of him, and all he wanted to do was to punch himself. God, how stupid was he? Of course that was why...

Gently, he pried Brett's arms away and peered into his pale, tear-streaked face.

" _I'm_ sorry, Brett." So here they were again, caught in that endless cycle of apology. Eddy felt almost helpless, but he pressed on anyway. "Look, I wasn't trying to pressure you. I would never try to make you move out. I didn't know you were stressed about that, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

He swiped softly at the tears on Brett's cheeks with his thumb. But this seemed to achieve the opposite of what he wanted, because Brett sniffled loudly, scrunched his nose, and the tears only tumbled down faster.

"Oh Brett," Eddy murmured. He leaned over and drew the boy into his arms. Brett crumpled almost immediately, as if he'd used up all of his self-restraint, and buried his face in Eddy's chest.

"Are you still mad at me?" Brett asked, broken voice muffled against Eddy's shirt. "I really am sorry."

"No. Just mad at myself."

He felt Brett shake his head. "Don't be."

Eddy hugged Brett just a little bit closer, unable to stop himself. He held Brett until the boy's sobs subsided, and as he enveloped the small, warm body in his arms, he was struck a vague thought that he didn't want anyone else to see Brett like this. That Brett can smile and laugh with others as he wished, but that Brett's moments of weakness should belong to Eddy alone.

How selfish, and greedy.

Eddy shook his head, as if that might dispel the forbidden thought.

*

After they got home, Eddy ushered Brett into the bathroom for a hot bath, so that he could forget the unhappiness of the evening.

Had the evening been so unhappy though, Brett pondered as he stared into the mirror. His nose was still red and his eyes were puffy, but he was wearing a silly smile now that refused to go away.

Eddy had held him. Eddy wasn't mad at him, and didn't want him to move away, and even Eddy's anger earlier in the evening had stemmed from the fact that Eddy cared about him, hadn't it?

And then there was the fact that, just before they got in the car, Eddy had stared at him. Had it been Brett's imagination, or had he caught a flash of desire in Eddy's eyes?

He slowly stripped himself of his shirt and glanced at the spot where Eddy had stared. He wondered...

Don't be greedy, Brett, he thought to himself. But then again, what if he was, just a little bit...?


	10. Chapter 10

Todd came to visit Eddy on campus about a month into the semester. That was not unusual in itself, since they had been good friends even back in England, and the university often did collaborations with SSO. If Eddy had known all the events that would follow, however, he may not have brought Todd to the café that day.

At the time, Brett had just started working there. The café didn't pay as much as the bar, but it was much safer and more conducive to his studies, Eddy had explained to Brett when he found him the job. Brett could work the shift between his classes and reserve his evenings for homework and practice. Most importantly, Eddy, like everyone else at the university, stopped by the café often and could keep an eye on him.

Brett brought them their coffee that with a cheerful smile. He placed Eddy's before him with particular care and whispered, "I gave you an extra shot."

Ray rolled his eyes and jabbed Todd conspiratorially. "Would you look at this blatant favoritism."

Brett shot his instructor a withering glare, which made Eddy laugh. "Thanks, Brett. Have you met Todd? He's the principal bassoonist at SSO. We studied together in London. He's giving some lectures here over the next few weeks. Todd, this is Brett."

Brett peered at Todd curiously after they politely exchanged greetings. But before he could ask anything, he was summoned away to another table.

"Wow Eddy, you never told us you had a brother," Todd mused after Brett had left.

"Ha. He didn't tell me Brett was his bro, even _after_ I told him Brett was my student," Ray complained. "And if I hadn't been with him at the bar that night, this asshole probably would've never told me."

"The bar? What happened there?"

"That's a whole other story. But Eddy, you know when I ask Brett, he insists that you guys aren't related. So what is he, just a family friend?"

Eddy didn't answer right away. He was studying Brett's movements across the room with an indulgent smile. He had been worried that the work might be too much for Brett, but he seemed to be doing just fine, joking along with the group of students seated at the other table. It surprised him to see just how easily Brett adjusted to his surroundings, even though it really shouldn't. Brett had always been heartbreakingly adept at that. 

It was only after Ray repeated his question that Eddy turned to him with an exasperated grimace. "Kind of. And I didn't tell you precisely because you're such a huge gossip. Anyway, I thought we were going to talk about classes..."

*

"Here's your latte."

"Thanks Brett! By the way are you coming to the talk tonight? There's going to be free sushi, I heard. I can save you a seat."

"Would you really? That'd be great—oh wait, shit, I actually don't think I can make it. I forgot I have a paper due tomorrow, and I haven't even started." Brett apologized to the girl, and with a sincere smile, added, "But thank you anyway..."

The girl, though obviously disappointed, seemed placated by his smile and said the usual no worries, next time, before slinking off with her coffee.

When she turned her back, his smile disappeared.

Jordon observed the change with amusement. "You were never going to go, were you?"

"Sure I was. I just have a paper."

"Okay, if you say so."

Brett frowned. He disliked that tone, just as he disliked the way Jordon watched him when they worked together, picking apart Brett's disguise with those observant eyes of his. What did Jordon know about him anyway, he thought as wiped vehemently at the milk steamer. What did anyone know about him? They saw who they wanted to see, that was all. Even Eddy...

But he shouldn't let Jordon get to him. He breathed in and out slowly and his face relaxed into his usual expressionless state. Jordon wouldn't get it. He probably had a normal childhood, with a normal family, and normal friends. He didn't know what it was like to have the people you loved most hurt you and leave you.

Brett knew. And that's why he knew also that to survive in this world, it was best to be likeable to others without losing too much of yourself. To actually grow attached was to open yourself up to pain. He'd made that mistake with Eddy, and look where that got him?

***

"Bre—" Eddy stopped himself. Brett, who had been doing homework on the coffee table had apparently slumped forward and fallen asleep. Eddy tiptoed towards him and draped the jacket he'd grabbed from the chair over Brett's slumbering form.

He stood and watched the boy sleep with a fond expression underlined by guilt. Should he allow Brett to work at all, he wondered, when it cleared tired him out? But if he didn't, would he be curtailing Brett's freedom too much? And after all, as Brett kept reminding him, Brett was already an adult. No doubt he wanted to make decisions for himself...

Tired of these thoughts, Eddy shifted his attention to the sheaf of music paper peeking out from under Brett's arm. He gingerly extracted one page and studied the chicken scratch notations scribbled all over.

"The fuck," he murmured, suppressing a laugh. Brett might be a little prodigy at the violin, but at theory...Eddy shook his head woefully and returned the page back to the table. Then, unable to help himself, he pat Brett very lightly on the head before stepping away again. 

Eddy was just about to slice into the tomato when he heard a sleepy voice ask, "What are you doing?"

Brett stood at the entrance of the kitchen, rubbing his eye. His hair was mussed from sleep and Eddy's jacket was still draped over his small frame. He looked almost cherubic. There was a short pause, as Eddy's voice caught in his throat.

"Are you ... cooking?" Brett asked. He shuffled over to Eddy and peered at the mess on the cutting board incredulously, as if he were looking at an alien species hatch into life.

"Ye-yes. I thought I'd try..." Eddy didn't know why he was stuttering. Brett inched closer, his arm brushing against Eddy's. Eddy could just see the smooth skin at the nape of his neck as he bent his head forward. "You said we should eat less takeout, so..."

"But ... do you know how?"

"Of course. I-I mean, kind of. How hard can it be?"

Brett glanced at him with a small, half-stifled giggle. "But your hand is wrong..."

Eddy wasn't sure what Brett meant by that. In any event, he was more focused on the sparkle in Brett's eye as Brett peered up at him. The amused smile on Brett's face grew a fraction of an inch, as if he knew exactly what Eddy was thinking, which unnerved him. He quickly looked down at the cutting board to avoid Brett's gaze.

"You should protect your fingers, like this..." Brett said softly. He placed his own, small hand over Eddy's and pressed lightly on Eddy's fingers until they curved inwards, like a paw. 

Eddy felt a jolt of electricity from where their skin touched; his other hand shook and almost dropped the knife.

"I'm okay," Eddy said with a shaky laugh. "Why don't you go...uh...finish your homework. I can handle this."

Brett lowered his eyelids and observed their overlapping hands for another moment. Eddy held his breath. He couldn't tell what Brett was thinking; all he could see was a row of dark lashes that trembled ever so slightly. He wished Brett would remove his hand.

And then Brett did, and he felt an undeniable pang of disappointment.

Brett gave him a sweet smile that was all innocence. "Thanks Eddy."

Dinner was just okay, but that was good enough for Eddy. It helped that Brett ate everything with an enthusiasm that bordered on excitement, as if Eddy's mediocre pasta were on par with something from a real fancy restaurant. It wasn't true, of course, but it was nice enough of Brett to pretend.

"I'm not pretending," Brett protested with a small pout. "I really did like it."

They were standing side by side at the sink, cleaning up the dishes. 

"Nah, you're just saying that," said Eddy, though he secretly felt pleased with himself. He flicked some water at Brett playfully. The latter scrunched up his nose and flicked him back. 

"Hey!" said Eddy, and they both laughed. The atmosphere held an eerie hint of comfortable domesticity that was both pleasant and faintly unsettling.

Finally, Brett smiled wistfully, his eyes downcast. "Eddy, I mean it."

*

Eddy was grading papers at the dining table when Brett approached him tentatively with his bundle of chicken scratch.

"Eddy, sorry to bother you, but I just can't seem to get it right...Do you think you could help me? I don't think it'll take long..."

Eddy glanced at him in surprise. After he was sure he'd heard right, his face lit up with a warm smile. He hadn't thought that Brett would voluntarily ask him for help. That he would do so now, was it perhaps an indication that they had reached a sort of détente, that Brett was learning to trust him again, if even just a little? 

"Of course! What is it?"

Brett slid into the seat next to him and pushed the papers over. Eddy only noticed then that Brett must have showered recently. There was a residual heat emanating from his skin, and small beads of water trailed from his hair down the collar of his shirt.

The shirt was Eddy's. Another old one that should have been tossed but somehow found its way into Brett's hands. It was still too large, and slid off Brett's shoulder more than Eddy would've liked. But to comment on that was to acknowledge that he'd noticed...

"This is the part I don't get," Brett was saying.

Eddy blinked a few times and forced himself to focus.

*

Brett only half-heard what Eddy was saying. He was cognizant, however, that Eddy's attention drifted too now and again and that his eyes looked almost hungry as they occasionally traced their way down Brett's neck.

So that's how it would be. As long as he stayed within the invisible bounds of "normality" that Eddy had drawn for himself, Eddy would have no excuse to pull away. A small smile hovered at the corner of Brett's lips. Well, he could play that game. 

***

A/N: Despite Brett's reputation as a party boi, it is somehow impossible to come up with a love rival for Eddy that isn't Hyung lmao. And as I simply cannot write Hyung into another story, we'll see how Todd fares. (Don't worry, there won't be that much of him lol) 


	11. Chapter 11

Brett snuck into Todd's Masterclass and cornered him after it was over. He explained that he was filming a series of videos for a music education seminar. "Professional versus beginners. It's to show the humorous side of classical music, which may enhance interest among a younger audience."

Todd glanced at him skeptically. "And how can I help?"

"You would be the professional, obviously. Just a short clip, promise. Please?"

In the end, Todd agreed, as Brett knew he would. Over the years, he'd learned how to read people, and he could tell at a glance that Todd was the sort of nice person who wouldn't say no to a good buddy's younger brother.

Besides, in no time at all, he had put Todd at ease, amusing the older man with his deadpan expression and off-color jokes, not to mention his awful playing. Each failed note drew a tortured smile from the bassoon prodigy and by the end, Todd was almost in tears.

"Do you think this is what it feels like to wear a bra?" Brett asked as he hoisted up the bassoon straps.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" Todd replied with a snort. "Like the total opposite of Eddy. Funny that he's never mentioned you--"

He must have betrayed himself there somehow, because Todd stopped abruptly and gave him an apologetic look. "I mean, just not to me. Or maybe he did and I just forgot..."

"Do you want to get lunch?" Brett interrupted, before it could get any more awkward. "My treat, for your help today."

They settled on the school dining hall, and Brett insisted on paying over Todd's protests. He knew he knew he wanted more out of Todd than a silly video and this was his small token payment.

The lunch rush had just passed and the place was almost quiet, which is exactly as Brett wished. He waited until they had started eating but no longer, because he couldn't hold himself back.

"So, how did you meet Eddy?" he asked casually.

"Oh, didn't he tell you? We were in the same first year seminar group."

And what was he like back then? Who else did you guys hang out with? What did you guys do for fun? What was he like in class? What did he like to eat? Did he ever talk about home? What did he say? Why did he come back to Australia? And so on...

There were too many years he'd missed, empty years that formed a gulf between them, distancing Brett from the real Eddy. Brett could never hope to understand him without bridging the gap, but maybe, just perhaps, with these small, precious pieces of knowledge, he might be able to do something...

"And Sophie, what's she like?"

"Sophie...?"

Brett's heart thumped. Had he gone too far? Todd had answered all of his prior questions patiently and without suspicion, but he looked puzzled now.

"Sorry," Brett blurted, "I didn't mean to pry or anything. I just--because Eddy doesn't talk much, and it's been so long since I've seen him...you must think I'm weird."

Todd studied him for a moment, then shook his head and offered a soothing, _No, no, not at all._

"That is, I can't say I really understand, but I get the feeling you care about him a lot, and there's nothing weird about that. Certainly nothing to apologize for," Todd explained with a sincere smile.

Brett's eyes burned suddenly and he had to look away. No one had ever said that to him.

"Thank you," he mumbled, bowing his head. "You're ... really nice."

Todd laughed softly. He reached over the table and gave him a light pat on the head. "You know, I wasn't going to say this, but I feel like there's a lot going on in here. Did you find me today just to get the intel on Eddy?"

Brett's head sank lower and a telltale blush colored his cheeks. Perhaps he'd underestimated Todd. After all, a person needed more than technical skills to jostle his way to principal bassoonist at such a young age.

"Sorry..."

"Nah. Well, since you've got me here, what else do you want to know? Maybe some embarrassing stories?"

Brett jerked up again in surprise. "Wait, really...? Is that ... okay?"

"Yeah," said Todd, with a friendly twinkle in his eye. "I love telling embarrassing stories, especially about Eddy. Did he tell you about that time he......"

*

When Eddy spotted Brett halfway across the dining hall, he was laughing at something Todd had said. It wouldn't have struck Eddy as odd, except that Brett was laughing so genuinely, shedding his defenses, even though he couldn't have known Todd well at all. Weren't they strangers mere days ago? Eddy watched them pensively for a few moments, until Jordon summoned his attention again.

"What are you looking at, Professor? Oh, isn't that Br—"

Eddy shook his head and motioned for Jordon to continue walking. "It's nothing. I was just thinking. Your idea is quite good, but it needs a bit more variation in the chords, no?"

Jordon gazed thoughtfully at Eddy, but let it slide. "Yeah, I think so too, like a minor modulation......"

Eddy nodded. He fought the urge to look at the unlikely pair again as he walked out of the dining hall. So what if Brett was sitting with Todd, looking so at ease? Todd was his good friend, and though he was slightly puzzled as to why they were together, he was happy they got along. Nothing could be better, more advantageous, than Brett making more friends, especially with talented young people like Todd. That's why he had wanted to introduce them in the first place.

"You don't like that idea, Professor?"

"What?"

"It's just that you're frowning," Jordon pointed out with some perplexity.

"Oh. No, it's nothing..."

*

And then Brett brought it up at dinner, as if it were nothing strange, which, of course, was right. Don't be weird about it, Eddy thought to himself.

"I met your friend Todd again today. He's really nice! I like him a lot," Brett offered cheerfully as he dug into Eddy's very average curry. "He's really smart too. I went to his masterclass and even though I don't play his instrument, I still feel like I learned a lot about musicality. And did you know, he said that ......"

Eddy's lips tightened. So they hadn't just run into each other as Eddy had supposed, but Brett had specifically sought out Todd's class? Why? Brett had no particular reason to attend a bassoon class...

"And he also said that if I want to improve my tone, I should try to--"

"Do you want more curry?"

"What? Yeah, okay... Anyway so Todd said—"

"I wouldn't put too much stock in what Todd says about tone. He's a good musician but not a violinist," Eddy said as he took Brett's bowl to scoop more curry at the stove.

Brett was taken aback by Eddy's tone. He watched the other man curiously, though Eddy had his back turned so Brett couldn't quite discern his mood.

"That's true..."

"If you want, I can listen to you play some time and offer some pointers," Eddy offered as he handed Brett's bowl back. "I did use to be your teacher, remember?"

Their fingers touched briefly as the bowl exchanged hands. Brett was sure he hadn't orchestrated that, so an accident...?

"Yeah," he said, puzzled but pleased. "That'd be great."

A faint feeling of irritation stalked Eddy all evening. It didn't help that a storm had begun to brew outside, and that as the night wore on, his attempts to compose a new piece were continuously interrupted by the booming thunder and relentless rain. The awful weather perfectly imitated and intensified his unease so that, finally, around 1 am, he gave up on his futile efforts and walked out to the kitchen for some water.

On his way past the living room, he was surprised—and not too pleased—to see Brett still up, nestled among the couch cushions watching late night cartoons.

"It's pretty late," Eddy noted, furrowing his brows. "Don't you have morning classes tomorrow? Better get some rest."

Brett gave him a sheepish look. "Couldn't sleep..."

"But you should at least be in bed," Eddy began to say, when he suddenly remembered something.

He remembered that rainy nights were anathema to Brett, back when he was a child. Even after they had pushed their beds together, Brett would still often lie awake until the morning, trembling under the sheets until the storm passed. For a long time, Eddy hadn't understood why, and Brett had adamantly maintained that it was nothing. But after awhile, after Brett finally learned to trust him, he explained hesitantly that it was because his father usually drank more when it rained.

"I don't know why, but I'm sure he had his reasons," young Brett had said, as if he didn't want Eddy to judge his father, even after everything that he'd endured. "And when he drinks, he's not himself, that's all. He didn't mean any of it, I'm sure." Brett didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to disturb your sleep. I know he isn't here anymore and can't hurt me, but I just..."

"No, it's not your fault, silly."

After that, Eddy convinced his mum to let them watch cartoons late into the night when it rained, hoping to distract Brett from his fear. He also made sure to hold Brett extra tight so that he could fall asleep feeling safe and warm.

But that was many years ago now. How had Brett slept through the storm, all those years he was gone?

"Sorry, is the TV too loud? I can go back to my room. I'm pretty tired now anyway."

Eddy shook his head and plopped down next to Brett on the couch. "It's fine. Maybe I need to unwind too. What are you watching? Dragonball? I didn't know they still played that."

Brett's eyes lit up at this unexpected olive branch. He shuffled over slightly to make space and, with a shy smile, explained, "There's a new season, actually."

"Yeah? What happens in the new season?"

" _Shh..._ just watch."

Dragonball shifted into Pokemon shifted into Sailor Moon. Thankfully, by the time the opening finished playing, Brett finally succumbed to sleep and Eddy was spared the pain of watching sailor soldiers vanquish evil.

Brett had curled up tranquilly by the sofa arm. It seemed cruel to wake him up now, but also cruel to leave him here. Quietly, Eddy stood up and slipped his arms under the boy to lift him, careful to cradle the rounded head gently against his chest as he made his way to Brett's bedroom.

Brett stirred only briefly when Eddy set him down, letting out a small, dissatisfied hum as Eddy retracted his arms, then falling fast asleep again after Eddy tucked him in. Eddy smiled softly at the boy. He gingerly swept a tuft of hair from Brett's forehead and stared down at that sweet face he had missed so much.

His earlier irritation dissipated and gave way to a new emotion, a tender agony that made his heart ache. If only Brett knew how much he...but he dared not think about that. 

He wondered, how much longer could he keep Brett by his side?

Unable to stop himself, he bent down and pressed a light kiss to Brett's forehead. Then, with a small, resigned sigh, he left the room. 


	12. Chapter 12

A subtle smile chased across Brett’s face. In the short moments that Ray turned away, he would reach a finger to his forehead, to where Eddy had kissed it and where the phantom feeling of Eddy’s warm lips still lingered. At times he wondered if he had dreamt the kiss, so surreal had it felt, but surely…

Ray rapped his music stand. “Hello~earth to Brett, are you listening to me? I was saying that this piece is an exploration in loneliness.”

Brett nodded and pressed his lips together to hide his smile. But the bleak despair of Shostakovich which had long felt familiar to Brett seemed foreign, for once. He couldn’t feign it, not today.

Ray gave in eventually and ended lessons. “Do you feel ready for the campus performance?”

“Yeah. It’s just a performance. What's the big deal?” Brett replied carelessly. 

“No need to take that attitude, now,” Ray admonished, unusually serious for once. “A lot of big names are coming. If you catch someone's eye, get a few articles written about you, it could help a lot. Classical music isn't all about skills, after all.

“Besides, even if we're talking skills, you're not quite there yet."

Brett's gaze snapped up. The unexpected critique stung, pulling him from his daydreams.

"I don't mean you're not good,” Ray clarified. “You are. I just sense a nervousness sometimes from you when you approach the unfamiliar, and when you're nervous, you tend to lose control. You can't have that as a soloist. Have you thought about the root of all of that?"

"I don't know what you--"

"A lack of confidence, or a fear of failing? Is that why you won’t sign up for the international competitions? And why you turned down the big named schools? Perhaps you're afraid of putting yourself out there?"

Brett pressed his lips together tighter.

"Or maybe it's something else. Just think about it. I believe you can be a great musician, but to improve, you need to push past your fears, or whatever is holding you back, that's all," Ray concluded, not unkindly.

Brett responded with a curt nod.

"I'll see you next week then."

Brett walked briskly towards the cafe. His earlier cheer had begun to fade as he thought about Ray’s words. Put himself out there? How quaint, he thought with a scornful smile. When you had nothing to offer beyond winning a few competitions (what was he good for, otherwise?), then the sudden attack of nerves was inescapable. To fail was to risk certain disappointment, disappointment to Mrs. Chen, and to Eddy… 

And anyway, that wasn't why he turned down those schools. Ray wouldn’t understand.

Brett handed out the coffees impassively. No grins, no banter, just thank you, goodbye.

“No smiles for the girls today?” Jordon remarked.

Brett rolled his eyes but remained silent.

“You nervous over the campus performance?”

“No. Why would I be?”

“Then…Is it because you missed Professor Chen? He came earlier you know, asked about you.”

Brett glanced at him warily. “I wasn’t looking for him.”

“Aren’t you always looking for him?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“I think you do. There’s something going on between you guys, isn’t there?”

Jordon spoke lightly, as if he were merely joking. But he was smart, and Brett could tell from his amused expression that perhaps he was onto something. Brett frowned and clenched his fist.

“The way you look at him is different from the way you look at others," Jordon continued. "It’s almost as if--“

“Stop.”

Jordon stopped abruptly, taken aback by the ice in Brett’s voice.

“I'm just jok—“

“You don’t know anything, so just stop.”

The clouds lingered after the storm, making it one of those grey, wet days that no one liked. Why did everyone have to rain on his parade, Brett wondered. And the morning had seemed so promising. His steps slowed to a tired trudge. He needed to snap out of it; he still had to practice. He had to prove to Ray that he was good enough, and had to make sure he didn’t embarrass himself at the campus performance, had to pretend everything was okay when he got home …

“Brett? You ready to head home?”

The familiar voice pierced through Brett’s torpor. He looked up and there was Eddy standing at the end of the empty pathway, waiting for him with a smile. All of a sudden, the stubborn persistence that had sustained him all day crashed. He drifted towards the older man and threw his arms around his waist. 

“Brett?” Eddy repeated, gentle voice laced with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Brett buried his face against Eddy’s broad chest and breathed in deeply. He felt Eddy tentatively hug him back, and a sense of calm enveloped him.

“Yeah. I’m okay now.”

They retreated to Eddy’s office, a safe haven, smelling of old books, worn leather, and Eddy’s cologne. Brett wasn’t really to talk about it, so he instead asked if Eddy wanted to hear him play.

“Do you like it?” he asked after he finished. "Ray says it sounds too happy.”

Eddy chuckled. “It’s slightly more cheerful than I’d expect from Shostakovich.”

Because how can I suppress it, when I’m here with you? Brett bit his lower lip and looked down demurely, so that his lashes fanned over his cheeks.

“Well, Professor Eddy, what can I do to improve?”

“I can’t really say that I have more to offer than Ray,” Eddy replied with a shake of his head.

“But you were my first teacher. And you promised!”

Brett’s lips protruded into a childish pout. It was just a joke, really, but it seemed to work. Eddy gazed thoughtfully into space for a few moments, and responded with a ponderous, “If I had to say, I noticed that your fingers are a bit tense when you play the tenths. Maybe if you shifted your wrist slightly, it’d sound better?”

“Like this?”

“Not quite—”

“Then like this?”

“No…”

“You’re impossible,” Brett declared with a groan of frustration. “Just show me.”

He didn’t give Eddy an opportunity to say no. Quickly, he shuffled over so that he stood with his back almost pressed to Eddy’s chest. He heard Eddy’s breath hitch, and smiled just slightly. Maybe that was what he’d wanted all along. Even he didn’t know anymore.

“Well?”

“I…I guess…”

Eddy raised his arm and wrapped his fingers lightly around Brett’s thin, delicate wrist, adjusting it a fraction of an inch. With Eddy’s arm around him, he felt as if he were being held. He could pretend a little, couldn’t he?

Brett played the phrase and asked softly, “How did that sound?”

He looked up. Their eyes met. Their breaths mingled. If Eddy leaned down just slightly, or if Brett only raised himself on his toes, then Brett could press his lips against Eddy’s and that would mean everything. 

Eddy wanted to pull away. He felt it before Eddy moved.

But Eddy, he thought, you don’t always get to call the shots. He sagged suddenly, collapsing his weight against Eddy’s chest. Eddy had no choice but to catch him.

“Eddy,” he whined, like a petulant child. “I’m tired. I’m tired of school, and Ray, and working, and practicing. Make it go away.”

He looked up and saw Eddy’s eyes soften.

Perhaps he was thinking back to better times, when Brett could still crawl into his lap with an annoyed pout and lean against him innocently. _Eddy, I’m sick of math, I can’t do it._

_You have to do it_ , Eddy would say gently, but he would hold Brett in his arms and help him. _Now if 2/6 is equal to 1/3, then 2/4 is equal to…Brett?_ But Brett would invariably fall asleep, and Eddy would have to finish his work for him and carry him to bed.

“If you’re tired, then let’s go home.”

Brett allowed himself another moment against Eddy’s chest. It was sturdier now, compared to before, warm and sturdy…Wouldn’t be nice if Eddy could carry him to the car? Or even to that nice leather couch…they could take a nap, himself in Eddy's arms. Wouldn't that be nice? He’d be good…

But no, that would cross the line. Brett was smarter than that. He could wait. 

“Ok. Fine,” he said, dragging out the _e_. He righted himself up with another pout.

Eddy smiled fondly and ruffled his hair. A reward for behaving?

It was dusk now, and the campus was near empty. They walked slowly side by side in silence, Brett dragging his steps, until suddenly, Eddy reached out and took his hand. Brett almost jumped.

“What…?”

“You’re walking too slow,” said Eddy, giving him a tug. “Come on.”

He didn’t interlace their fingers, but held his hand as if he were holding onto a younger brother.

Did one, however, hold hands with one’s younger brother, when the younger brother was already eighteen?

Brett dragged his steps even more. Maybe Eddy saw through it, or maybe he didn’t. But he held Brett’s hand tighter and pulled him closer.

Brett’s heart buoyed and he smiled a knowing, bittersweet smile. 

On the one hand, Eddy was holding his hand. On the other, for how much longer must they do this silly dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunno if anyone's reading this, but if you are, thank you, and also i'm convinced Bretty has Eddy wrapped around his finger XD


End file.
